Interlude – A Roaming Raccoon’s Reasonable Relationships [Part Two]

Interlude – A Roaming Raccoon’s Reasonable Relationships [Part Two]

Rac tried to look confident as she walked.

Before, in the gutters and the undercity, she had to make herself small, inconspicuous and unimportant, like the racoons shed been named after. There, but not important enough to bother with.

Up here, heading to the Barber Shop, the attitude was different. She had to look like she belonged.

Youre going to need some sort of ID to get past the bouncer, she said. Hes this big full-borg guy who doesnt fuck around.

Cat shrugged. I could take him, she said.

She hadnt even seen Molotov as she said she could take him. Then again… Cat could take him, and that wasnt something Rac wanted. No. Hes actually kinda nice? But hell sound the alarm if he thinks youre corpo or a samurai.

Cat grunted. Howd you get in? I doubt they carded you.

Im a merc, Rac said. Once I had my status fixed, he let me in no problem. You need someone to vouch for you to become a merc though.

Could probably fake it, Cat said. Then she frowned. Really? Huh. Well, thats actually kind of clever.

Rac pursed her lips and half-turned to look at Cat. What is?

Right, Mercs mostly use paper. Easier to destroy, and not something Myalis can just break into. So, that ideas out.

Rac nodded along. Maybe… I think you could get in just like a normal person going to the bar, but not if youre with me. Maybe if you try to pass yourself off as a specialist? For like, a job?

What sort of specialist? An infiltrator? A sort of cyberninja? Oh, I can totally use Myalis to pass myself off as a meshrunner, no problem. Or some sort of front-line alien killing badass. Im pretty decent with bombs too. And stealth.

Uh-huh, Rac agreed. Cat probably could get away with all of that, but it wasnt the kind of shit that an actual merc did. Well, maybe some of them, but the average merc like Rac did work that was a lot less complicated.

Her last few jobs had been standing around looking tough, or helping someone load up some crap into the back of a van in a hurry, or escorting someone through a rough part of the city. Cat was a Samurai, she was doing the kind of crap that legends did all the time, but most of the people in New Montreal were as far from legends as they could be.

She heard the Barber Shop before she could see it. A low, distant thrum of bass-boosted swing music from last century and a faint stink to the air that was unique to this one level of the megabuilding. It was piss (which wasnt unique) but also booze-filled vomit and sweat and cigarette smoke.

They came around a corner, and the front of the Barber Shop was right there. A big rotating door, painted in blue and white and red, with Molotov the bouncer standing next to it, massive arms crossed over his chest.

Hey Molotov, Rac said as she came closer. The music was louder now, so she had to pitch her voice up. Molotov heard her though, probably. The entire upper half of his head was prosthetic. Borg eyes in a chrome skull. It stopped around the upper lip, where he had a long, rather awesome beard and moustache that he tucked into his three-piece suit.

His eyes twitched down, scanning her, then back up towards Cat. Hey Rac. Whos your friend?

Shes a specialist, Rac said. Lookout specialist. Thought we could use the extra hand today, and I wanted to introduce her to Millenium Animal.

Molotov eyed Cat for a long, long time, then he gestured them in. Behave, little Racoon, he said. And your friend too. The Barbers dont like trouble.

Yes sir, Rac said.

They slipped through the rotating door, and the music hit her like a slap to the face. Loud swing music, accompanying a woman on a far stage swaying her hips and multiple fox tails while she crooned through a song.

The bar was split into three distinct areas. The big central dance floor, with the stage and its musicians and a few holograms along the edges of men, women and anthropomorphic animals in suits and nice dresses from over a century ago dancing, and to the left was the bar itself, with a bunch of round tables and a counter that ran the length of the room.

The place wasnt as busy as shed seen it, probably owing to it still being early in the day. Still, there were some three dozen or so people around the bar and the floor, some in nice anachronistic suits, others with varying amounts of animal parts either worn on as clothes or as elaborate prosthetics, and a few just… normal street people, like she could have seen anywhere.

The right side of the bar was where she dragged Cat. There was a dividing wall, the bottom half fake wood, the upper bulletproof glass. Behind that were the booths, which is where business happened.

Whos Mister Millenium Animal? Cat asked.

Hes the one who hands out jobs, Rac said. Hes a troubleshooter. He gets jobs, gives them to the crew.

And whats with his name? Sounds Samurai-ish.

Its because hes old, Rac said. Apparently he was born in like, 2000. And the Animal part is, uh.

They entered the booths section, and Millenium Animal was right there. He was a fox today. A well dressed, dapper fox, with a little fedora on and everything. You didnt tell me he was a furry, Cat hissed.

Arent you? Rac asked.

Cats mouth worked, and Rac noticed her cheeks warming up before she glared. Im not, she said.

Rac shrugged. Okay. Whatever suits you.

Millennium caught sight of her and waved even as the mask he wore twisted to give the impression of a smile. Little Racoon, youre right on time. And you brought a friend too. Nice ears, maam.

Thanks, Cat bit out. Im Racs… big sister, of sorts. She walked right up to Millennium and stared him down, ignoring Racs quick and aborted attempt to gesture for her not to do that.

Millennium was big in the Barber Shop. Hed been here since forever ago, and while he was definitely… weird, he had one of the best reputations for troubleshooting in New Montreal. A lot of people didnt pick him for jobs, mostly because he kept things on a smaller scale, but he also refused a lot of clients. He also almost exclusively picked which mercs he was going to work with.

It was practically a fluke that shed gotten in with his current crew of low-tier mercs, and that was only because of her name.

And right now, Cat was glaring at him as if he was some double-digit alien threatening to eat a baby.

Millennium took it in stride. Im afraid I didnt catch your name? Im Millennium Animal. Its a pleasure to meet you, especially seeing as how you seem to care so much for our dear Raccoon here.

Cats anger subsided a little, and she glanced at his hand for a moment before shaking it.

Rac sighed. She wasnt about to shoot her boss.

Call me Cat, Cat said. And Im not a furry.

As you wish, he said with a shrug. A lot of us would rather identify with the animal within, rather than with the community without, and thats perfectly acceptable as well. In any case, how can I help you?

Cat seemed to be caught flat-footed for a moment before she shook her head. Look, I just discovered Rac was doing… something with you, and I was worried. I wanna see what youre all about. Make sure its on the up-and-up.

Millennium laughed. Its anything but that. And its not entirely safe either. But… I run a good crew, and I pick my jobs. The price isnt the best, but the work is as safe as it can be. He shrugged again, and somehow his ears and tail moved in such a way that he looked way more innocent than Rac knew he was. As we used to say when I was young, it is what it is. Now come, sit. Todays job is nothing complicated, and if youre as comfortable with that handgun as you look, then maybe youll want to sit in on it?

I wouldnt mind that, Cat said.

Rac held in a groan. Not only did she have to introduce Cat to her friends, now Cat would be babysitting her on a job.

Cant see why youd want me on a job though, you dont know me at all, Cat pointed out.

Free labour is free labour, Millennium pointed out with a fox-like bark. I dont look gift horses, or cats, in the mouth. Now come, Ill show you to Raccoons friends, and you can determine on your own that she isnt so unsafe.

***

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